Reflections Across Enemy Lines
by AstraGalactic
Summary: Having escaped from Asgardian justice, Loki returns to Earth to make the Avengers pay for ruining his moment of glory. He studies them, learns their pasts and weaknesses to use against them. Trouble is, one of them reminds him a bit of himself... and it makes him feel unacceptably uncertain.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: For anyone who knows me already, this fic is in Avengers movieverse, so it's in a different universe than "Stark Realizations", i.e. no redeemed Loki. Instead we have a Loki who escaped Asgard post-Avengers and is trying to avoid Thanos (and being recaptured) while still trying to get back at the Avengers.

Also, the sorry truth is that I have no clue where this story is going (or if I'm going to continue it for certain), so if you want to see more of this or if you have any suggestions, please let me know!

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Loki smirks as he watches the carnage unfolding below. It's pathetic really, the two master assassins have their hands full trying to evacuate panicking civilians who are so pitifully terrified, they are almost entirely without reason – or a decent survival instinct – and the rest of the Avengers have their chances of defeating his latest creation reduced to near nothing when they split up into two teams, having taken the bait and fallen for the illusion he has created of another one of these creatures coming up from below-ground.

It's even more amusing really – though even the smile that appears on his lips is bitter and twisted and somehow deeply unsatisfying – that none of them realize that the creature feeds on energy, and each time Thor strikes it with lightning, it becomes a little stronger….. till eventually it will become strong enough to even crush the Hulk.

Loki fidgets with disappointment as he watches the fight raging below and twirls his new scepter – one of his own making – idly in his hands. It's too bad that he needs to lay low from Thanos, or he'd be down there wreaking havoc with his own hands, and it's even more irritating that the Man of Iron and the anachronistic Captain are in the group that split off to handle the nonexistent second creature, because had the former continued to fire his energy-based weapons at the creature, it would have probably already been strong enough to repay the Hulk in like measure for what it did to him last time they met.

He feels a flicker of real amusement when he notices that the two Avengers not preoccupied with an ever-growing beast and panicked civilians seem to be arguing. That much is clear from their body-language, even though he cannot hear the conversation from this distance, and he cannot help but smile slightly as somehow a figure covered completely in red-and-gold armor manages to still give off an entirely human air of frustration and defiance all rolled into one, if only because Loki cannot help but wonder why the big muscular blondes always get to be the leaders in every world.

Rage overtakes amusement when he suddenly realizes that at least one member of that misfit team of oddities realizes that his illusion is just that, and he's tempted to take a shot at Iron Man who has suddenly blasted into the air to return to the real fight – the only real fight, but it's a largely irrelevant notion, because the Captain beats him to it with a yelled verbal attack:

"You'll never be a real part of this team as long as you're so irresponsible!"

It cannot damage the metal armor that surrounds the other man, but Loki knows that words can cut deeper than any weapon, and dismissing both his momentary anger and something that feels oddly like a flicker of sympathy which has no right to exist in him, Loki simply contents himself with watching.

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	2. Chapter 2

A/N: For anyone who knows me already, this fic is in Avengers movieverse, so it's in a different universe than "Stark Realizations", i.e. no redeemed Loki. Instead we have a Loki who escaped Asgard post-Avengers and is trying to avoid Thanos (and being recaptured) while still trying to get back at the Avengers.

Also, the sorry truth is that I have no clue where this story is going (or if I'm going to continue it for certain), so if you want to see more of this or if you have any suggestions, please let me know!

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He does not know whether he should be furious or perhaps a little impressed when he realizes that the mortal has figured out both facets of the deception at work here – why else would he have placed himself in the way of the latest enormous lightning strike hurled from Mjolnir before flying in front of the creature in an effort to get its attention.

Of course the "Hey, scaly!" that the mortal yells, even amplified by his armor does nothing to get the creature's attention, but it is suddenly riveted on the Avenger when he charges up every energy-based weapon he has, lighting up his armor like a beacon of energy that magnetizes the creature and draws it in.

Loki watches, entranced as his creation, predictably rears onto it's hind legs, swiveling its reptilian body to face what looks to it like an enormous meal, and lunges, only to have a barrage of projectile-weapons poured into its vulnerable underside, even as it half leaps and half falls onto the armored Avenger, ravenously sucking the energy from his chest.

Another barrage of weapons fire shakes the creature, and this time it keels over dead, but Loki knows that in a way, he's still won, because even as the armored Avenger staggers out from beneath the enormous corpse, Loki can see that the creature has managed to suck too much power from him – and knowing what he now knows about the true function of that glowing device in the mortal's chest - assures him that his enemies loose more than him, for Loki can always conjure up another beast like this one, given some time and rest, but the Avengers will never be able to replace one of their heaviest-hitters and the majority of the brain-power behind their operations.

He laughs as the Captain finally catches up to the rest of them, and lays into his teammate with renewed vigor. From here, this time, he can make out another accusation of irresponsibility – because had that second monster been real people could have been killed – and insubordination and a few other things that clearly speak of some kind of past rivalry that even Loki is still not entirely knowledgeable about… but it's hardly relevant because the other Avenger opens his faceplate, wearily tries for a few seconds to explain – to justify his choices to his condescending and angry leader…. and then most likely decides that he has better things to do than deal with this, because suddenly, he simply steps away and blasts off into the nearby forest.

A tiny part of Loki cannot help but wonder if any of these Avengers have noticed the honest pain and weariness which was not just physical in their comrade's expression, or the fact that his thrusters were sputtering dangerously as he sped away from them. The rest of him, the dominant part reminds him that he should be celebrating a great victory this day….. even if the idea somehow rings hollow.

Loki knows he should feel satisfied. Even if by some chance, the mortal's power-supply manages not to shut down entirely, the Man of Iron will be in no state to defend himself now – especially having cut himself off from the rest of his team, and that means one of those pesky Avengers down permanently.

But his satisfaction crumbles entirely when he hears the outdated Captain call out after Iron Man: "What's wrong, Stark? Scared to take it like a man!" because it strikes too close to home, and as he follows the lone Avenger into the dark of the forest, even he is not sure of his own intentions.

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	3. Chapter 3

A/N: For anyone who knows me already, this fic is in Avengers movieverse, so it's in a different universe than "Stark Realizations", i.e. no redeemed Loki. Instead we have a Loki who escaped Asgard post-Avengers and is trying to avoid Thanos (and being recaptured) while still trying to get back at the Avengers.

Also, the sorry truth is that I have no clue where this story is going (or if I'm going to continue it for certain), so if you want to see more of this or if you have any suggestions, please let me know!

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He finds the mortal collapsed against the base of a massive fir tree, with the faceplate of his armor open and his eyes closed, struggling to breathe in the cool night air as the blue light in his chest flickers….. and he's such an easy target with his armor open and disconnected from a power source that cannot even power a human heart much less a thousand pounds of metal… but Loki cannot bring himself to plunge the point of his weapon into that unprotected chest, because even with the mortal's eyes closed and his features twisted in physical pain, he can see the emotional pain and devastation there….. and he knows far too well what that feels like.

He steps closer – underestimating the weakened human in front of him whose eyes snap open and harden at the sound of a snapping twig.

It's a doomed effort but the mortal chooses to fight, and his armor seals up over him, draining the last of the power supply to fire off a single energy blast in Loki's direction.

Loki feels like lashing out on principle, even as he shifts slightly to avoid being hit – but this mortal is fascinating unlike any other, and his anger flickers out as he finds himself inexorably drawn closer, until he is kneeling before armor that has become a lifeless restraint.

He wonders what the mortal is thinking – now that he is dying for the unworthy world – and wanting to see for himself the expression on the mortal's features now, he reaches out, touching the tip of his weapon to the seam of the faceplate, and overrides its lock with a small pulse of directed energy. He repeats the action to open the armor covering the mortal's chest, strangely drawn in by the now-dark circle imbedded in it before he lets his icy green gaze travel up to study the mortal's expression.

This time the mortal's features are covered with cold sweat and his eyes are glazed…. but he's still present enough to feel a flash of fear as his armor retracts, leaving him exposed, until the fear is drowned out by burning defiance, and he struggles to lift his head slightly, glaring at his triumphant enemy even as death creeps up on him.

For some reason that futile defiance intrigues the fallen king more than it angers him – more so even than the mortal's nerve had intrigued him when he'd approached him as a fragile mortal and nothing more…. and dared to threaten him.

Stark is an exception, Loki decides….. a human not made to be ruled – and perhaps in some ways as much of a reject to this world as Loki was to his. Part of him almost wants to lock up this mortal like a precious artifact, to keep him alive and study him because he is too unique to simply ignore and too dangerous to leave free, but that notion resembles too much the entire situation with Odin and Sleipnir to have any appeal for long.

The quiet strangled gasp that is the mortal's next breath brings Loki back to the present like a punch to the gut, and before he can stop himself, he kneels in front of the mortal – close enough where combat would be imminent if the mortal could even move.

Stark's eyes widen slightly in response, instinctual fear rippling though the resignation to his death that fills his gaze….. but still he holds onto that defiance, still he will not beg for mercy, and Loki finds himself speaking:

"You will die….. Son of Howard."

He cannot help but smile bitterly, because the mortal had not even reacted to the first part of his statement, but responds to the appellation with a withering glare….. and he cannot help but wonder, now that he knows more about the entire team's history, if this mortal too had to grow up in the shadow of another who would always be preferred by his father.

Pressing the tip of his weapon to the inert reactor, he releases a pulse of energy, giving it enough to start functioning again, and when the mortal's shocked gaze meets his, he finishes:

"But it will be by your own choices or the enmity of another…. not by my hand - not on this day."

Between labored breaths, the mortal manages to choke out one word:

"Why?"

Again Loki smiles, more bitterly than before. He knows his words will strike deep into old wounds that are well hidden yet he recognizes because of his own familiarity with like burdens, yet he says them anyway, satisfying the scars of his own misery with the like suffering of another:

"You have your genius, and I my magic….. and because of our gifts…. nothing we do is ever good enough for them."

He things he sees a disturbing flicker of compassion in the mortal's eyes as Stark leans slightly closer, but it vanishes just as suddenly as it appears and then the defiance is back.

The mortal's tone is defiant, challenging…. perhaps foolishly so:

"If you spared my life in hopes that I'll join you…..you're smart enough to figure out where to shove it."

At that, Loki can only laugh – because anyone else would have been an idiot to dare speak to him like this, but in the case of this mortal - this genius with perhaps questionable sanity, far too many morals for Loki's taste and seemingly no concern for his own life - he just doesn't mind paying the price for his snarky defiance.

Despite the defiance, though, Loki still notices the slight trace of bitterness tainting the mortal's tone, and he finally answers:

"I'm no fool, Man of Iron. I just wonder, do you never tire of fighting and sacrificing for a world that will never truly accept you?"

The honest pained weariness in the mortal's tone as he replies with another cutting challenge is answer enough – but it's not enough to override the determination filling it as his words strike deeper and with more precision than any weapon he's ever created:

"And don't you ever get tired of telling yourself that destroying lives will fill that emptiness?"

For all his reputed silver-tongue, Loki finds that he cannot answer that, because the words are cutting truths – because for all that he wanted to conquer this world for some kind of validation, he'd never felt any less hollow inside even when he'd believed his goal to be in reach….. and feeling oddly exposed and uncertain, all he can do is melt into the shadows.

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	4. Chapter 4

A/N:

1)Sincere thanks for reviews and encouragement goes to: cara-tanaka, aortiz, aussie logic, Redblade, izzabella, TygerC, JustAnotherParallelDimension, Magician of Khemet, XD, Red Tigress, Blonde604, Magician Girl Mirani, and rabid-squirrel-3. As usual, I'll respond via PM to anyone I can.

Also, thanks for all the faves, alerts, etc, it is most encouraging.

As usual, suggestions are welcomed.

2) Apologies to anyone waiting on updates for Stark Realizations, Ouroboros, Heart of the Storm, and (potentially) Bittersweet Lies. They are coming, but this came up and is easier to write (and not make a wreck out of) than some of the heavier stuff when one's got kid-flavored chaos in earshot... Whew, talk about lungs! and energy!

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**(Tony's POV)**

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Tony's head snaps up from the holographic schematics before him as JARVIS alerts him to Loki's presence on the helipad of his tower, and informs him he's about to call in the other Avengers.

He can hear the concern in his computer's tone – subtly expressed but undeniably there – and he feels a pang of guilt as he tells Jarvis not to make the call: "Not yet, J."

This time, Jarvis sounds confused and concerned – rightly so, Tony reflects, considering that last time Loki was here, he'd thrown the inventor to what would have been a certain death had it not been for Jarvis and the Mark VII – but he still cancels the call, simply prompting for an explanation with a single question:

"Sir?"

Tony sighs, ignoring the large part of his mind that is screaming at him that this is probably his worst idea ever – after all why start minding it now when he's studiously ignored it each time it has reared its head, whether it be during the creation of his armor or most of the latest battles – and replies quietly, holding the green gaze fixed upon him through the thick glass while he surreptitiously slides the tracking bracelets for the Mark VII onto his wrists:

"Have the Mark VII ready to launch but unless I'm killed or incapacitated, don't call anyone else…. not yet."

This time the computer's tone as he says the same word is laced with concern and if Tony's to be honest with himself, pain….. but he can't think too much about that, not now. He's known for some time that Jarvis has been troubled by the risks he takes, knows that the computer has developed emotions that make everything his creator does felt deeper than ever intended – but as much as they complicate things, Tony also knows that were he to try and remove them, he'd be destroying Jarvis in a way…. killing his friend – and that's something no-one has the right to do.

Feeling an explanation is warranted – he owes this much to the one greatest constant and confidante in his life – Tony says softly as he folds away the schematics and locks them away beneath layers of his encryption:

"Fine, Jarvis – use your discretion – but the thing with Loki is… despite everything he's done I kinda get where he's coming from. He has problems, a laundry-list of complicated problems which he doesn't know how to handle and usually doesn't want to even confront, but I think some small part of him is trying to figure it all out, to figure out where he went wrong and why none of this helps… He asked me a question a couple weeks ago – I answered with one of my own."

For five seconds that are an eternity for the supercomputer, Jarvis is silent, and in that time, Tony observes his visitor, noting that while fully armed with his latest glow-stick - not 'of destiny' at least which is a relief to Tony – Loki is waiting outside impatiently rather than barging in, something that should be vaguely reassuring even though it's mostly oddly unnerving.

When Tony finally tells Jarvis to unlock the new security door he has installed, the computer does so, but with a final admonition which lacks all his usual deadpan sarcasm:

"Very well, Sir, but if he hurts you or tries to override me, I reserve the right to call the Avengers and utilize all the new security measures you have installed here."

At those words, Tony cannot help but smile a little – because his usually unflappable computer actually sounds menacing for once, and if he has ever been able to completely trust someone to have his back, it is Jarvis.

He feels like he should say something – should tell Jarvis that even if everything goes to hell from here and no-one can help save him from his probably-idiotic choices this time, he's grateful that Jarvis was there for him though it all – but at that moment the door opens and Loki steps through, all confidence and inhumanity topped with a predatory smile and a tone as poisonously smooth as ever:

"You never did give me that drink you offered."

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	5. Chapter 5

A/N:

1)Sincere thanks for reviews and encouragement goes to: cara-tanaka, icis182, Ordis, izzabella11, Redblade, DemonColours, Mellonote, Nitmi, bermellon, HeartsNaruto, and Miravisu. As usual, I'll respond via PM to anyone I can.

Also, thanks for all the faves, alerts, etc, it is most encouraging.

2) Sincere apologies to anyone waiting on updates for Stark Realizations and Heart of the Storm. They should be here within a few days. I've had to get back to work again, and things are insanely hectic. Well, that and with the DVD release of "Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows", I've been on a bit of a Holmes bender which may or may not result in some kind of publication (I don't know if it's actually any good yet).

3) I'm on youtube now! with the username "**Astra Eightyseven**", and I have made two vids, both Iron Man character-study videos, set to a couple Linkin Park songs that I think fit the character perfectly (and I happen to really like).

Since I cannot put the link here, the titles are "IRON MAN - What I've done" and "IRON MAN - In The End", though since a lot of people have made similar vids, if you're looking for mine, best to google my username.

Anyone who wants to drop by, or who finds Tony Stark as amazing as I do, come say hi :-)

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**(Loki's POV)**

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Loki half expects the mortal to run in the opposite direction – if only because that's what any normal sane person would do – but instead of running or even seeming uncomfortable, Stark replies with a nonchalant shrug:

"That was before you threw me out a window… Defenestrators don't get drinks. My tower, my rules."

If that was meant to do anything but amuse Loki further, it fails miserably, and he replies though an even wider grin:

"You didn't state any conditions when you made the offer, Stark."

"Fine, as long as you stick with any form of address that's not a patronymic, you can have a drink."

The mortal's response is too easy – too smooth to be a genuine change of plans – and Loki does not know what sinks deeper through his shell of ice – that he's strangely welcome for now in his enemy's home or the fact that the mortal seems to relate about as well to his father as Loki does to his own.

Instead of acknowledging the fact, Loki makes another jab:

"Agreed, Tin-Man."

He means it as a slight, an insult – almost as if some part of him wants to infuriate the mortal into a fight, because that would indeed be so much easier than having the conversation he came for. The name itself comes from some foolish Midgardian child's tale, even if he is using it in the more literal sense of a metal that is shiny and bright while being pathetically soft.

Rather than taking insult or becoming angry in any discernible way, the mortal only chuckles quietly, eyes fixed on what he is mixing, and it is only when Loki remembers more about that child's tale - remembers that the Tin Man didn't have a heart for all effects and purposes as far as everyone was concerned, even himself – that he notices the faint traces of so much human pain and loneliness and heartbreak hidden behind fake mirth.

'_Sentimentality….. such weakness'_ Loki reminds himself mentally, except that the words seem oddly incongruent with the sight of the paradoxical mortal before him….. because for all the buried sentiment that shows through layers of deception and veneers of indifference – a weaker man would have broken and given in to blind destruction.

He pointedly silences the tiny flicker of doubt in his mind that asks if that is what he has done, telling himself that his attempt to ascend to greatness as ruler of this pathetic realm as the first of many was simply a desire to take what is rightfully his.

Instead of commenting one way or another, Loki makes himself at home on a nearby couch, enjoying the support it provides. He feels relaxed, comfortable – as he should. The territory of this mortal is no more threatening than Asgard was to him, and outside his armor, Tony Stark is fragile – mortal. What has Loki to fear? – except for the odd fact that said mortal is sauntering about the bar mixing drinks and appearing more relaxed than the chaos god in his living room.

It is Tony who breaks the uneasy silence:

"So, Loki. What do you like?"

Loki shrugs instead of speaking since he has no idea what passes as drink in this realm and hates admitting a lack of knowledge about anything, but it is clear that no words are needed when the mortal smoothly segues into a nonchalant:

"Okay, what I'm having then."

Seconds later, Tony steps away from the bar holding two glasses of whatever it is he's conjured up, and hands one to Loki saying:

"Well, it's no Asgardian Mead but I think it's pretty good."

When the mortal sits across from him on the opposite couch, Loki forces himself to take a sip, grimacing slightly at the burn, even though he finds the taste pleasant.

Noticing the expectant look on the mortal's features, and since wry sarcasm is easier than having to express gratitude, Loki replies smoothly:

"I was never overly fond of Mead anyway."

The memories of drinking contests and the drunken jeers that followed him whenever he'd turn to leave, having no desire to end up in a stupor himself, mix painfully with the sight of the mortal downing his own drink without any hesitation, and bitter words bubble up unbidden from Loki's lips:

"I guess I wasn't man enough to willfully inebriate myself."

For a few disturbing seconds, the mortal looks at him, studying him, then puts down the empty glass on the table between them almost like a peace-offering, saying more than a little bitterly:

"Well, you won't hear me saying that. I only drink because just for a little while it takes the edge off the things that hurt."

Loki finds himself surprised and un-nerved, both by the mortal's bitter candor and the fact that he had so easily understood what had triggered the comment to begin with, but it's easier to attack than retreat, so he lashes out, viciously:

"So if I were to destroy everything in your life you care for, you'd drink yourself into your grave?"

This time the mortal's gaze hardens, his features set in burning determination that somehow makes them more formidable than the grim faceplate of his armor, as he replies in a tone that's laced with grief yet burning with so much resolve there's nothing vulnerable about it:

"Possibly, but only after I personally escort you to yours, in subatomic pieces so miniscule there won't be enough of you left for a DNA analysis."

Loki knows he's pushed too far this time – he'd expected nothing less really – but the answer only creates more questions for him, because under the mortal's mask of indifference he's in many ways horrifically alone and broken – a clear sign that the people Stark cares for cannot give him what he truly needs – and yet there is no mistaking the fierce devotion to them, or the anguish that the idea of harm coming to them brings one who in some ways seems so invulnerable.

The pain-fueled fury in the mortal's now burning gaze…. bothers Loki in some way. The mortal still seems unconcerned for his own safety…. and he dares to threaten with a silent look alone that is more powerful than words can be, but it does not make Loki himself feel threatened. Instead he feels confused, and more than a little hollow inside, if that was even possible….. because for all that he wants to laugh at that blind fierce devotion, somehow he feels ….. inadequate, knowing that he has never felt anything that powerful.

Far be it for him to admit what he feels, though. Instead Loki says smoothly, through an icy smile:

"Do not concern yourself with my hypothetical question. Your little friends are not important enough for me to seek out."

For a fraction of a second, he thinks he sees doubt, even fear flicker in the mortal's gaze. But before he can be sure of it, it vanishes behind steely determination and the now banked flames of rage….. and then the mortal stands and turns away, walking to the window.

In the reflection of the glass, Loki can see that the mortal looks….. weary – weary of life itself, and some of that tiredness seeps into the mortal's tone which has become level and cold:

"What do you want, Loki?"

His reply gives nothing away – and simultaneously far too much:

"Answers."

He wonders what the mortal is thinking now – wonders if he is hiding fear beneath that air of tired disinterest. Does he not realize how easy it would be to throw him again through the glass to a certain death? Or since that had failed spectacularly the first time courtesy of the mortal's armor that had gone to him…. Is Stark not acutely aware of how easy it would be to run him through with the weapon that has never left his side, leaving the fragile mortal to bleed out before anyone or anything can protect him? Does he even care?

Loki asks the first question that comes to his mind, keeping his tone flat as not to give away the turmoil the mortal engenders in him:

"Why did you let me in?"

Stark chuckles as he replies easily: "I owed you a drink….. and clearly locked doors don't mean much to you."

Loki knows that is not the reason, and wonders what is brewing beneath the surface. Had the mortal though to trap him here? Had he called the other Avengers before letting in his visitor?

He gets his answer when the mortal turns to face him, all semblance of wry humor gone from his features, replaced by a tired, almost haunted expression which matches perfectly the mortal's tone:

"Honestly? Because you …. are the nightmare version of myself….."

Loki's first instinct is to lash out…. to kill the mortal for daring to speak to him in this way. But something in the mortal's haunted tone stays his hand, because somehow it's more a bitter understanding than it could ever be a condemnation.

Stark walks closer, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that Loki is now standing facing him…. tense, ready to attack, scepter in hand. His tone remains calm, and barely a whisper:

"The version of me that couldn't see the future…. that couldn't understand what these abilities are for."

These words…. strike deep, in places that Loki was sure he'd lost all feeling in long ago. Because the mortal acts as if Loki could have simply chosen to be someone like him….. instead of the destroyer of worlds…. because the implications of that statement hurt as much as they warm something deep within him that had long been frozen.

Anger is the easier emotion to acknowledge, and it is with that which he responds, his voice icy smooth and threatening:

"Really? What are they for? What does all that you do get you…. aside from the assurance of an early grave?"

Stark simply shrugs, as if Loki's statement is a forgone conclusion, but he answers nonetheless, calmly:

"The hope that my life will matter."

Loki turns and walks away by a few steps…. enough to put some distance between himself and the infuriating mortal….. enough to rekindle the rage he feels because he has let this fragile creature somehow under his skin.

Turning with a fury to face Stark, he snarls:

"You mortals are so foolish. How can you hope to have any significance at all in your miniscule lifetimes? You're born and before the universe has even noticed your existence, you die."

Again the mortal approaches him, calmly closing the gap between them as he replies, in a tone that is still calm despite the raging immortal before him, and despite the element of rawness that seeps into it:

"By trying every day to ensure that when I do die, I'll have left this world better than I found it."

There is something beautiful in the bitter realism which laces the mortal's fragile hope. There is something ….. extraordinary… in the way the mortal chooses to react – and once again the famed Silver-tongue finds himself lost for words.

For a brief moment, anger gets the better of him, and Loki lashes out, thrusting the scepter at the mortal's unprotected chest.

The mortal is quicker than Loki expected though – or more likely he'd been aware of the possibility of this eruption all along – because when the haze of his anger clears, the mortal is still standing, a few steps to the side, and only his sleeve has been sliced open by the blade with barely a scratch to Stark himself.

Loki sighs, then lowers the scepter. It would be easy to continue this fight if the mortal was angry or even afraid. Instead - and despite the tension in the mortal's form, the slight shift of his weight to the balls of his feet as he prepares to dodge again if need be – Stark still seems unsurprised, even understanding….. and despite himself, it is Loki's turn to feel weary.

Finally Loki decides that he has had enough answers for the night, and he says in a tone that is as unruffled as ever, even as he swiftly turns to leave, not waiting for a reaction:

"You are unusual, for a mortal."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N:

1) Sincere thanks for reviews and encouragement goes to: Guest, kitkatthevampirelover, D, cara-tanaka, Guest, LightNote16, Ordis, Nitmi, HeartsNaruto, daluzing, farawisa, Xanthia, killing u with umbrellas, Moviemuncher, and SiriuslyScarredforLife. As usual, I'll respond via PM to anyone I can.

Also, thanks for all the faves, alerts, etc, it is most encouraging.

2) Sorry things are moving slow in this chapter, I'm having a tough time with this fic. I know where I want it to go (a really weird friendship of sorts, not FrostIron, not b/c I have anything against it, it's just not where this one is going) and have a few scenes planned out, but my muse isn't cooperating. Never fear though. I'm not abandoning this. I promise.

3) In case I'm not back to update for a couple weeks (which I probably won't be), Happy Holidays to all!

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The next time Loki is literally within arms reach of the genius inventor, the mortal is deeply unconscious in the medical ward of the SHIELD hellicarrier, and for all that he should laugh at the fact that no-one gives the new pretty green-eyed nurse a second look, for all that his continued presence here is the ultimate proof of just how pathetic Midgardian maximum security is…. for all that it would be so easy to give this particular fool of a mortal a lethal dose of some sedative and kill him, Loki can find no satisfaction in the thought.

It is almost as if this pathetic realm is entirely too worthless without this annoying mortal in it, as if everyone and everything else in existence here is so utterly boring and predictable that his eternal life will become quickly miserably dull without this human to antagonize. Of course there is also the tiny part in him which finds that in some strange way he enjoys the mortal's company, perhaps because this mortal is the closest thing to an equal that he has ever found …. because unlike his teammates, Stark was never the strongest or the fastest healing, he was never born a superhuman or even made into one by some experiment. Instead, like Loki, his mind was always – and always will be – his greatest asset, the one thing he used to reshape his own future and now the world's … and for all that the shape of the future that the mortal prefers is in direct conflict with Loki's plans for this world, he can't bring himself to get rid of the mortal… not this time at least.

Maybe he actually at some level feels a strange connection with the mortal…. maybe it's because for all Thor still idiotically calls Loki his brother and insists that they will always be brothers, it is Stark – and only Stark – who seems to truly understand him, and despite the fact that in the last time they exchanged words rather than weapons, the mortal had the nerve to call him the 'nightmare version of himself', it wasn't a condemnation, not really, because the moral had predicated his statement on the assumption that at some level he and Loki were alike…. that Loki could have been a hero too if only he chose it – that Loki was simply mistaken, rather than one destined to bring destruction - and ridiculous as the notion is, that criticism had, in all its bitter broken understanding, been something that once could have changed Loki's world…. perhaps just a little.

When the mortal returns to consciousness, with a grimace, Loki greets him with a snarled insult, one he finds entirely fitting considering that the strike which had landed Stark in the infirmary with several broken ribs and burns on one arm that delineated the seams in his armor had been meant for Rogers:

"You are an idiot, mortal."

Despite the fact that by all rights the mortal should be slow to respond, his reply is as fast and snarky as ever: "You'd be hard pressed to prove that, _immortal_."

Then follows that expected moment of confused silence as the mortal opens his eyes and takes in the female form standing next to him – which decidedly looks nothing like Loki usually does, hair and eye color excepted – and for all of a few seconds clearly questions his sanity before blinking hard and then cautiously querying:

"Loki?"

Loki only shrugs in reply – answer enough for the mortal who seems already certain of his visitor's identity if the facial equivalent of a shrug which follows his question is anything to go by – and suppresses a flicker of amusement, because when Stark had first replied to his words, he'd assumed it was Loki since Loki hadn't changed his voice that much and only he ever called the mortal as such anyway…. but what he saw had conflicted with that assumption, and though the mortal had to have at least heard of Loki's ability to take on other forms, it takes an adaptable creature indeed to simply accept the fact with so little ado.

It doesn't make the mortal any less of an idiot though, and Loki all but hisses in Stark's face as an odd kind of resentment wells up within him for the mortal's condition:

"If you weren't an idiot, you wouldn't be in here now."

He means it – for a fraction of a second he feels compelled to throttle the mortal for being as always interfering and annoying and stepping in to shield the Captain from what would have turned the un-armored Avenger into the equivalent of a Midgardian barbeque…. and who else besides an idiot would put their own life on the line for another who clearly has so little regard for him – but even as he speaks the anger abates, burning down to a smoldering frustration which isn't about to erupt… not this time.

Ignoring the insult, Stark merely replies – tiredly as if he's explaining something basic for the thousandth time:

"Yeah, well, I'm not about to just stand on the sidelines and watch you kill my teammates….. and what's **your**problem with Cap, anyway?"

Ignoring the latter part of the statement – because it is entirely true; somehow the Captain had taken Thor's place as Loki's most hated Avenger, but Loki isn't inclined to justify the fact beyond the possibility that the Captain reminds him of Thor before his exile and that is far more annoying than the present day Thunderer – Loki scoffs in reply, focusing entirely on the notion of the Avengers as a team:

"Teammates? What team, you don't belong in the same world, let alone the same room…. and that is how you mortals define a team?"

At those words, the mortal actually laughs – breathy and harsh with pain but a laugh nonetheless – and then replies with evident amusement and even more cynicism than Loki:

"Actually that's how we define family."

For an instant, Loki wants to lash out again – because it defines his family perfectly, because for all his life he's never belonged with them and this is a low blow indeed – but the wounded rage fades a little when he recollects something similar in one of those useless Midgardian anthologies of aphorisms he'd briefly perused from sheer boredom, realizing even as his magic comes to a raging boil within him that these words were not indeed an attack.

What anger remains melts away entirely when he notices the amusement in the mortal's expression flicker out, replaced by the deep-reaching desolation Loki suspects that only he may truly understand – if only because he's lived it - or even have recognized for what it is beneath all that seeming invulnerability.

Looking over his shoulder at what the mortal is seeing, Loki notices the Captain talking with one of the doctors outside the room – no doubt planning to come in and talk to Stark – and he briefly wonders what it will be this time…. wonders if it will be another lecture about not following orders or far less likely 'thanks for saving my life'….. but in the end even that doesn't matter, because Loki knows by now that the Stark family and this soldier have a history, he knows that this Stark's father spent most of his son's growing years searching for the Captain and can guess that maybe the blonde had been for all effects and purposes family to Howard Stark – more so than his own son.

It would certainly explain Tony's….. Stark's - Loki corrects himself - rapid change in mood. It would explain why the defensive air of cocky indifference that usually covers the mortal's fragile human soul is sliding into place before Loki's eyes as smoothly and quickly as the red and gold armor which covers his mortal body, for all that neither armor is truly invulnerable…. and watching this transformation – this painful transformation – Loki feels an unusual pang of sympathy.

There is indeed another way in which they are alike, and as Midgardians say _'misery loves company', _so perhaps it would be entertaining to watch this play out, to watch this mortal be deemed unworthy before one who was more to his own father than he ever was …. just as Loki had so very many times.

Once it would have been entertaining, but right now, it just isn't, because the mortal doesn't need to deal with this right now – not when he's physically hurt and tired – not when he's this vulnerable…. and even Loki doesn't feel inclined to be this cruel…. not today.

Decision made, Loki sighs – in a rare moment of vulnerability – and touches his hand to the mortal's forehead as he says simply … quietly:

"Sleep, Stark. We can argue another day."

The mortal tenses instinctively at the touch – after all the last time they actually were in contact, Loki had been throwing him out of Stark tower – but relaxes quickly, whether because he figures that if he were on Loki's list today he'd be already dead or because he realizes he's going nowhere, Loki doesn't know.

In any case, Loki also doesn't care, and instead of saying anything reassuring – why would he want to anyway - the next words from his lips are a spell – a simple one hardly worthy of his energy and yet strangely meaningful all the same, because for the next few hours at least, the mortal will sleep, untroubled by his injuries or even the dreams that may come – and turning to leave without waiting any longer for this peculiar feeling of kinship to invade him any further, leaving devastating uncertainty in its wake and unacceptable vulnerability, he pauses only to tell the Captain, as he exits the room, far too defensively for a nurse perhaps but still within acceptable limits:

"He's sleeping. Don't wake him."

If what the Captain is coming to deliver is gratitude (it doesn't look likely based on his expression), he will say it another time.

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	7. Chapter 7

A/N:

1) Sincere thanks for reviews and encouragement goes to: cara-tanaka, PlushChrome, akuma-river, Demon Enma, AnnAisu, HeartNaruto, xxXTheXFallenXxx, SiriuslyScarredforLife, ORgasmicPigeon, whitebengal14, Guest, HeartKnight31320, and Blackfox Nightengale. As usual, I'll respond via PM to anyone I can.

Also, thanks for all the faves, alerts, etc, it is most encouraging!

2) I finally know where this is going! (more or less)

3) And as always, I'm terribly sorry for the long wait. College, family issues, and an AWOL muse are ... well, you know.

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It's been a week since the last time Loki actually has tried to kill any of those infuriating meddling Avengers, because he's realized that each time he has come close to succeeding - whether his target was the weakest of the Iron Man's teammates or the strongest, the kindest to him or the cruelest – it was always Stark who managed to, by coincidence he'd claim, end up on the receiving end of the attack…. and just because Loki never did anything inefficiently, almost without exception, the mortal would end up in some way injured.

And it's become too ….. pathetically unsatisfying…. for Loki, because that mortal – an idiot through and through, Loki growls to himself – still never looks at his enemy with fear or hate. Instead, on the few times that they have met in battle and he could catch a glimpse of the mortal's gaze before the faceplate of his armor would seal and they'd actually try to beat each other to a bloody pulp, it was usually a strange mix of disappointment and understanding…. and it's the latter directed at him which Loki hates more than anything.

Then when they're fighting, when the world is burning around them and everything is drowned out by screams of panic, at times the Man of Iron is enraged…. Loki can hear it in his voice, but it's a wounded sort of rage because it's his world that Loki is wrecking…. not a hateful one… and sometimes Loki thinks that Stark has used up all his capacity for hate on himself…. and there's nothing left for anyone else.

Why else would the mortal constantly treat himself as if he's expendable? …. and how is it that no-one else can seem to glimpse just how much of himself the mortal is willing to just rip out and throw away?

It's a pity that the most fascinating human Loki has ever met is so self-destructive – or maybe it's fortunate, because his existence alone gives this pathetic planet some modicum of protection from the chaos Loki could unleash, and when he dies, there will be no reason left to stop Loki from burning the world.

Maybe, Loki wonders, pacing on the rooftop of a building across from Stark-tower, at ease in the freezing wind as he stares into the vacant living-room of the mortal's lodgings there and idly wonders what he is doing, if he should just kill the mortal and stop stalling himself….. because it would be so easy... but for as many nights as he has stood here shrouded in darkness, thinking of how easy it would be to make the mortal bleed and choke on his last breaths….. imagining the feeling of mortal flesh yielding to the sharp blade thrust through it, and the warmth of Stark's blood flowing over Loki's hands - because uncharacteristically, he wants to make this killing up close and personal…. Loki can't seem to find the impetus to just cross that small gap and act on his plans.

He curses under his breath, telling himself that it isn't fear that holds him back… fear of watching the light in the mortal's eyes flickering out, fear of hearing him choke on his blood and a greater fear of what he'll say then, because Stark never shuts up….. but even the liesmith can't deceive himself long and thoroughly enough to accept what he wants and needs to believe …. because if for a moment he could actually convince himself that the mortal would have the decency to - with his last words - accept that Loki is and can only be a monster, the sanity to feel fear and hate for this betrayal, it would be easy to kill him.

Right now, though, it just feels like a titanic expenditure of effort... all for nothing of what Loki wants to hear the mortal admit… and Loki is too clever to engage in pointless wars.

Unlike others, Loki knows how to be patient till it is the right time to fight…. and he's immortal after all. What, in his great design, is a few paltry years of waiting for a mortal lifespan to end? Especially when the mortal is so ready to trade in his life for that of almost anyone else, and will end up dead sooner than later even without Loki's intervention?

"I have a doorbell, you know."

Were he not rightfully a king, Loki would curse. Instead he whirls around, scepter at the ready, simmering with rage as he faces the very object of his thoughts who has somehow managed to sneak up on him, and though the fury is directed inwardly – for how could Loki have let himself be so careless – it only grows, turning its focus on the impudent mortal standing behind him, as Loki takes in the sleek black armor entirely covering his unwanted visitor, except for the mortal's head. His helmet is cradled against his side in one arm.

Stark smiles, gesturing his free hand in obvious self-satisfaction at his sleeker and nearly invisible armor, asking in a tone entirely too casual:

"Like my new design? It's stealth."

Loki scowls at him, making sure the danger he poses to the mortal shows in his voice – because why should he **wait** – and hisses in reply:

"You're a fool. Among your armors it protects you the least."

Stark laughs again, seemingly unperturbed, and adds on in a tone that's just short of mocking, even though the mechanical voice of his armor as he slips the helmet on and literally vanishes into the darkness of the night:

"Sure, if you can see me."

Against his own will, Loki can't help but admire the mortal's ingenuity, because it isn't just that the red and gold gleaming metal has been replaced by a flat black color scheme. he can actually see the lights of the city in the distance shining, as if though the body of the armor…. and despite the slight distortion, if Loki hadn't known where to look, even he'd have had difficulty in finding the armored Avenger.

Still, it doesn't stop Loki from despising the man for his idiocy – for coming here at all – especially when Stark removes his helmet and shuts off whatever had been making his armor invisible rather than inconspicuous…. and shrugs, talking to Loki as if they're causal acquaintances:

"It's just a prototype. I'm still working on making heavier machinery more power efficient and less noisy."

Loki scowls at him again, unsure whether or not he just wants to slice the mortal's head off or torture him first…. and he hates him even more when the subtlest flicker in Stark's expression betrays the fact that he can see Loki's rage, and instead of doing the sensible thing and retreating, Stark looks back at his tower and says wryly, pointedly ignoring the waves of hostility rolling of Loki, because he's not trying to hide them:

"So, doorbells, Loki. On Earth we use doorbells."

Stepping closer with his weapon leading and a shark-like grin, Loki hisses:

"And you presume that I want to squander my time with the likes of you."

Easily, immediately, Stark replies, with another shrug:

"Well, Reindeer Games, you have been sulking out here for five nights running. You tell me."

Was it not for the flicker of fear that only finds manifestation in the momentary dilation of the mortal's pupils, Loki would thing that maybe Stark has finally gone well and truly insane….. but the fact that he has noticed the danger he's in and still remains to defy him, only serves to infuriate the fallen king further… and as the mortal's challenging words register – as the pathetic fact that Loki had been weak enough to need the company of another being registers, made only worse because someone else knows – white hot rage erupts in Loki's icy heart, and he snarls, thrusting forward the weapon that he's been itching to use:

"I'd say you'd regret this foolishness…."

The scepter slams into the unprotected side of the mortal man, crushing the thin armor and breaking the already damaged ribs beneath, as Loki finishes, tone now entirely calm and icy:

"But you won't live to."

This time Stark doesn't reply. He doesn't even scream as he collapses onto his hands and knees. There is only a strangled guttural gasp of pain – probably all he can manage given the nature and suddenness of his injury anyway – and then the sounds of him struggling and failing to get enough air.

Finally, this infuriating mortal is on his knees before Loki, but it isn't enough…. because Loki can't excuse to himself why in the last fraction of a second he'd turned the scepter so its side hit the mortal. If he hadn't, Stark would have fallen forward onto him, skewered by the blade…. and it would be the warm river of his blood coating Loki's sweaty palms… not the icy night air.

The mortal still hasn't moved – not even to put on his helmet or attempt an escape, though to do so is probably pointless now, Loki tells himself – and he's not gasping any longer, just breathing in little shallow pained pants that are disappointingly dry, so apparently none of the broken ribs pierced anything internal…. and it's too quiet to be worth anything, so laughing with the sound of his sanity splintering, Loki kicks the injured man to his back on the rooftop, whispering a spell that causes green tendrils of flame to erupt on his fingertips

He waits just long enough for the mortal's eyes to widen, then wraps his hand around Stark's throat, not tight enough to stop him from breathing… just with enough pressure to let his spell work, and then stands, towering over the mortal as the green slithers along his skin, glowing though the armor that flickers and snaps… laughing as the mortal writhes at his feet and leaves an ear-shattering scream of pure agony.

When Stark stops moving as he tries to catch his breath between the shivering fits that wrack him, he's half-curled on his side, head sagging to rest on the cold rooftop because he's too weak to hold it up, but when Loki half kneels over him, the mortal opens his eyes…. and there's still no fear in them…. just exhaustion, resignation…. and disappointment.

This time, when Loki repeats his spell, he pins the mortal onto his back, one knee on his chest and his had gripping the mortal's throat... and feels something snap within himself as the mortal, even though the gurgling sob that is ripped from him because he can't get enough air to scream…. holds his gaze…. and his expression, eyes wide with agony… hasn't changed.

When Loki lets the flames flicker out, Stark sags against the rooftop, barely breathing and too exhausted to even shiver now…. broken and defeated, as well he should be…. and still he manages to ruin it all by speaking.

In all his centuries of existence, nothing could have prepared Loki for the next words from the mortal's mouth, which for all that they are a breathy whisper have lost none of their challenge or the underlying conviction which Loki cannot - will not - grasp:

"What are you waiting for, Loki? Finish it."

This time it's the victor – if this was worthy of being called a battle when Stark hadn't even tried to defend himself – is the one who flinches away, biting out angrily before he vanishes into the night:

"I am not here to help you commit suicide."

Loki wishes he could believe for one second that it was what the mortal was actually trying to accomplish on that rooftop, because he knows that for all Stark's willingness to trade his life for something, it's still always a sacrifice – an idiotic one yes, but not a solution – and there is no denying that the mortal was foolishly and stubbornly making a point.

He wishes his words weren't a hollow excuse to hide the fact that he found himself too** weak** to do what he so desperately wanted to do… to snap the mortal's neck which had felt so fragile between his fingers, or better perhaps, to switch from the spells of illusion which manipulated the mortal's mind into registering excruciating pain to the actual destructive magic he should have been using all along.

He wishes he'd just left, rather than sitting shrouded by shadows on a distant rooftop - probably too far out for the mortal to be monitoring - until Stark finally lurches to his feet and flies home.

He wills himself to feel satisfaction as he watches the mortal barely managing to stand through the process of removing his ruined armor before staggering to a couch and curling up in pain, choking out commands to his computer - Loki imagines, because the Avengers never show – and thinks of the fact that with the pathetic tardiness of mortal healing, Stark will be painfully reminded of Loki, of the truth he's denied, with each breath he takes for months.

And as Loki finally teleports himself away, he forces a smile, another laugh that sounds like ice splintering and crushes out of him anything that could have made him less hollow…. because finally, he'll have taught that idiot mortal to treat him as he deserves…. to fear him and hate him, and Loki's won at last.

Victory should be more satisfying than this.

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	8. Chapter 8

A/N:

1) Sincere thanks for reviews and encouragement goes to: cara-tanaka, Demon Enma, Scifilover, EmeraldWings, akuma-river, PlushChrome, Reader-anonymous-writer, Mirage Alcedame, HeartsNaruto, Maia2, Satosen, and WibbleyWobleyTimeyWhimey. As usual, I'll respond via PM to anyone I can.

Also, thanks to anyone who faved or followed, it is most encouraging.

2) Sorry for the long wait. College, family issues and an AWOL muse have been taking their toll.

3) This was a tough chapter for me to be satisfied with, but finally I am, so enjoy!

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Tony's chest tightens with each sickening lurch as his thrusters sputter and die repeatedly during his short flight back to the tower, but he firmly pushes back the anxiety, reminding himself that though most of the systems in this suit are fried, what little remains seems to indicate that he is still capable of this short flight – and besides, he hurts too much to walk home.

He finally relaxes once in the firm hold of his armor disassembly gantry, breath catching with each time the machinery jostles him in its efforts to remove the damaged hardware, and then as he struggles to stay standing once the upper sections of the ruined armor are gone, wishes that he'd designed the machinery to keep holding onto him even with the armor removed, because right now even the short distance to the nearest horizontal surface seems like a marathon.

He does make it at last to a couch before his legs give way under him, and he half-curls up on his uninjured side, trying not to breathe too deeply as he chokes out a request for JARVIS to scan him, even as he inwardly congratulates himself for giving JARVIS a new scanning suite that was adaptable enough to allow for injury assessment in any position, rather than the previous setup of being stretched out on a lab table.

"Certainly, Sir. Estimated time to completion, eight minutes."

The computer's tone is subdued – just like it had been when he'd been towing that nuke into the portal – a manifestation of what Tony has learned to recognize as something beyond concern, grief perhaps, on the AI's part, but despite the fact that JARVIS would be well within his rights - and reason - to verbalize the disapproval he has been subtly expressing all this time, none of that is given words, any more than the computer's evident concern, and Tony sighs, at some level grateful that he doesn't need to have this conversation, because though logically he knows that what happened with Loki was never truly unexpected…. everything feels raw, and his own emotions are enough of a burden to bear for now.

"Thank you, JARVIS."

Tony cannot help but whisper his gratitude – for more than words can express – and manages a pained smile again as he remembers the specifications for the scanning suite he himself has created, remembers that a full scan normally takes about fifteen minutes, and knows that despite his reservation in expressing his own feelings on the matter, JARVIS had been scanning him from the instant he touched down on the gantry.

Some things don't need to be said.

He shivers, feeling cold despite the ambient temperature maintained here which is usually comfortable for him, and winces at the flare of pain in every limb that results from even that tiny movement.

It is better than… before… but that isn't saying much because then, no words could have sufficed to describe the agony he felt anyway, and Tony shivers again, wondering if he really wants to hear the results from the scan currently in progress. It is not like he needs it to know that he has at least three broken ribs on his side – he's had those enough times to recognize this particular injury with no uncertainty. It is what remains, what he has no explanation for, that ties a cold knot in the pit of his stomach.

Either way, eventually exhaustion trumps both pain and the low-grade fear forced back into the corner of his mind – it doesn't matter, he decides – and he drifts off to the sound of one of his robots moving behind him, not bothering to look up, because here – here alone with his machines - he is **safe**.

Almost four hours later, he awakens to JARVIS's voice, feeling marginally better, and this time reasonably warm, thanks to the blanket carefully tucked around him by none other that DUM-E himself – who has his head planted against the front of Tony's shoulder and doesn't seem especially inclined to move – and closing his eyes against the prickle of moisture in them, Tony reaches up, wrapping his fingers around the robot's claw, suddenly feeling irrationally grateful for all of DUM-E's sulking which had guilted him into bringing the 'bots over.

U trundles over, dutifully bringing a green smoothie, which Tony forces down despite the nausea, knowing his body needs it if not anything else, and he breathes a sigh of relief when JARVIS confirms the injuries he'd expected, and not those he'd feared: Four broken ribs and one cracked, some bruising to his trachea, the usual strain to his heart that is all too common following most of his armored excursions – though usually from exertion more than pain –, physical exhaustion, and a long list he doesn't care to repeat of sprained , and at times torn, muscles from the convulsions, JARVIS tells him, though apparently he is lucky to have been spared dislocated joints because of the resistance the design of the armor itself had brought to any motion exceeding the safe range of the human body.

Cautiously he sits up, still not having dislodged DUM-E from where he's still all but permanently attached to him, Tony allows himself a wry chuckle at the fact that this long and unpleasant – but non-lethal – list of injuries is proof that Loki indeed had not wanted to kill him, and while he had been fairly sure of the fact since he'd challenged the fallen god to finish the job, and Loki had all but fled, leaving an obvious excuse in his wake, some tiny part of his mind had wondered if Loki's refusal to kill him then was only condemning him to a slow death instead.

It wasn't that though, and Tony allows himself some self-satisfaction at the still strong possibility that he is right about Loki – that Loki had lashed out, enraged by the fear of being understood, the fear of being vulnerable – even as he tries to take a deeper breath and instantly regrets it.

Turning to momentarily regard DUM-E, who hasn't been this distressed since the whole Stane incident, and unable to suppress the involuntary reaction of pressing his palm to that arc reactor still present in his chest – he supposes he may never be able to rid himself of this reflex, but at least he can now look at the lying bastard's smiling visage without seeing it lit by the blue glow of the arc reactor he was ripping out of him, or hearing the poisonous praise of his woul-be murderer, or feeling his chest constrict with remembered pain – he forces some levity into his tone:

"C'mon boy. Do I really look that bad?"

The robot only chirps miserably, but JARVIS answers, some undefined heaviness lingering in his subdued tone:

"Sir, bad is an understatement."

Tony leaves an affronted huff at his computer's statement, reassuring DUM-E before replying, again with flippancy he cannot feel:

"Way to stoke a guy's ego, J."

The fact that the computer does not reply with sarcasm, especially when Tony has practically invited it – is proof enough of JARVIS's misery, but there is nothing Tony can say that will help, no guarantee he can give and know that it will be kept, so he says nothing, hiding a wince as he walks into the bathroom.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Tony amends mentally that 'like crap' would have also been an understatement, before joking:

"Wow, okay, so you were giving me a compliment."

Again the computer doesn't respond – Tony knew he wouldn't anyway – and Tony throws an annoyed glare at his reflection, because he looks several years older than the last time he'd stood here, or at least like he hasn't slept in weeks - a more accurate assessment perhaps since genius aside, Tony's not making any claims to time-travel, but he has gone the sleep-deprivation route, repeatedly – and he's fairly certain that he is even more pale than the last time shrapnel from a high-yield explosive had managed to slip between damaged armor plates and poke a hole in his femoral artery.

At least this time his lips and fingernails aren't blue.

His comparison is broken by JARVIS's almost regretful tone:

"What did he do to you?"

Tony sighs, closing his eyes tightly against the headache exacerbated by the lights he had just switched to full, unable to answer what even JARVIS's sensors cannot analyze, replying quietly:

"I don't know."

Trying to inject some humor into the conversation – if one can call the heavy silences that

predominate a 'conversation', he adds:

"Magic sucks."

Tony tries to smile but it cracks and falls – he's never learned to hide from JARVIS anyway, or needed to – and he cannot help but cringe slightly at the angry finger-shaped bruises rising in angry contrast to the pale cast his skin has taken on, even as he tries to distract himself with the annoying fact of having to wear the turtlenecks he usually avoids with a passion, because it's easier than remembering.

His attempts at distraction fail spectacularly, and Tony raises an arm to brace against the cool tiles of the walls, forehead resting against his forearm and fists clenched, unable to stop the minute tremors running though him any more than he can stop the memories from flooding back, the wounds he had liked to believe long-since scarred over.

The worst part wasn't the pain – indescribable as that consuming agony had been – and Tony can't help but wish that it was, because instead what he can't shake is the remembered fear, ironically, not of Loki himself, but rather of the memories that had come flooding back, the experiences that his mind couldn't help but link to that experience.

Unable to breathe or scream with Loki's hand crushing his trachea, Tony remembered the icy blood-tainted water of a cave in Afghanistan rushing into his nose and mouth – his lungs too when he'd reflexively gasp for air – and the burning deep-seated pain in his chest from the recent surgery and the electromagnet.

Unable to move beneath the crushing pressure of Loki's knee – and too exhausted to move what little of himself was free – with pain lacing through every nerve, he couldn't help but remember the sonic tazer, and a man he'd trusted and loved like a father ripping out his metaphorical heart at the same time as he wrenched the arc-reactor from his chest.

In the end, the worst part of this – the hardest to endure – and the one thing that has left Tony feeling like everything within him is rubbed raw, each emotion acutely felt where it brushes against open wounds in his psyche, is that even without necessarily trying (or maybe he was, Tony doesn't know), Loki had effortlessly brought Tony back to every worst moment of his life.

It takes some time for Tony to realize that JARVIS is talking to him, and when he does catch the tail end of the computer's softly spoken words, some part of him can't help but silently agree:

"… May I remind you, Sir, that this course of action is becoming increasingly imprudent?"

Loki's actions were not a betrayal, and Tony knows this. He had long ago accepted the risk of a bifurcation point being reached in this chaotic equation, and knew that each second with the fallen god was a risk.

Despite that, in the wake of it all, what transpired on that rooftop still hurts as if it were a betrayal, and some part of Tony can't help but agree, but he doesn't put words to that statement, unwilling to give that part of himself any more of a hold, because at some level, he also knows – understands –the self-destructive end that Loki was trying to accomplish, and though it would be easier to simply give in, Tony doesn't **have** to let him reach that end.

He takes a breath to speak, willing himself to ignore the pain lancing though his chest, at last offering quietly:

"Trust me, JARVIS. Contrary to what it seems, I know exactly what I'm doing."

JARVIS doesn't reply, again as Tony expects, because his words have as little reassurance in them as the last time he'd said something similar – that time he'd been slowly dying of palladium poisoning, and Rhodey was on the receiving end of the statement – but he cannot bring himself to offer any more reassurance, because anything more would be a lie. He may know what he is doing, but there are no guarantees this will end well.

Wishing for a more effective distraction, Tony has the pieces of his stealth armor brought to him, then curses as he tests the eleventh piece of it and finds enough damage where repair is futile, unable to suppress the annoyance that this armor had lasted for even less time than the Mark VII, and at least that one had been destroyed in an actual battle.

Frustration turns to pained bitterness as he muses that despite having made his appearance in armor, he hadn't gone there for a fight – it wasn't as if he could fly without a suit and if he had intended on a fight he'd have worn the even more rugged upgrade of the Mark VII.

Instead, he had chosen the stealth armor because it was his latest creation – his most unique so far – and it was something he had wanted to share, not with his enemy on the field but someone that he knew from observing could appreciate the value of speed and stealth over direct force.

Now, seeing it scattered around him utterly destroyed – and feeling physically not much better himself - Tony can't help but feel entirely bitterly alone, as in many ways he has always been.

It isn't until JARVIS breaks the silence, saying something about them being able to rebuild and repair the armor even better this time - while the gentle reassurance in his tone leaves no doubt that he will be there to rebuild and repair whatever else needs to be made whole again – that Tony finally can feel some peace again, because as long as he has JARVIS – and DUM-E and U - he will never truly be alone.

Leaving the repairs for another day, Tony limps to the relative comfort of his bed, feeling a little less raw inside as he lets the comfort of JARVIS's silent presence watch over him, because with all that JARVIS understands and feels, with all the times that the AI's existence would be less emotionally challenging were Tony not who he is, he can still trust JARVIS to always be there for him, to never tire of him and turn away.

That loyalty means more than anyone else could ever understand, because though if JARVIS were to upload himself elsewhere (he certainly has the capability) Tony could always re-create him - reconfigure the AI so that he'd be bound to remain, to feel less or to feel differently - it would never be JARVIS, not as he is and who he is, and they both know that.

He can't help but laugh at the irony as somehow inevitably his thoughts turn back to Loki, wondering if in the bleak bitter aloneness that practically freezes the air around the fallen god, he'd ever had anyone who he could trust so completely.

Even as he conceives of the question, he imagines he already knows the answer: No.

...

...

...


End file.
